How Brett Favre Stole Christmas…
All I wanted for Christmas was at least another month without any Brett Favre retirement speculation. Unfortunately, I am not going to get my wish. And you know whose fault it is? Brett Favre’s. He had the choice to let a sleeping dog lie until at least after the playoffs, but instead, he decided to open his trap about it during one of his confessional/press conferences and now…well, the cat’s out of the bag, to mix animal-related metaphors. In case you missed it, here’s the video of Brett officially opening the ‘08-’09 Will Brett Favre Retire Speculation Season:
He’s so subtle about it too, isn’t he? He acts like he’s just talking about the team, the playoffs, and then…he drops it in. “These could be my last three games.” Not making any promises though, are you Brett? I honestly cannot believe what a shameless attention-whore this guy is. Nobody – I mean nobody – was talking about his retirement prospects. And he knew it too, didn’t he? He could feel the silence around him…like a kind of coldness. And how does Brett chase that chill from his aging, evidently unappreciated bones? “These could be my last three games.” Now the talking-heads will drone on and on about it, all off-season too – and Brett will sit there in front of his TV in his log cabin out in the swamp and soak in all the love and adoration. And sometimes he will go outside and shoot himself a critter to fry up for supper. In his Wranglers.
It wouldn’t have been so bad had Brett just waited until after Christmas – but no, he had to go and ruin the holidays. And don’t for a second think it wasn’t deliberate. Like a hillbilly Grinch, Favre plotted and planned and schemed, and made his way at last down to Whoville to steal everyone’s presents. But, unlike the Grinch, Favre will not have a last-second conversion and wind up eating roast beast with Cindy Lou Who and the gang. The Grinch’s heart was a little shriveled-up raisin at first but it only took a little love to make it beat again – Favre’s heart, on the other hand, requires much more fawning and attention than any mere village of Christmas-loving freaks could ever provide. All the love of all the football-viewing public, not to mention his acolytes in the media, would still not be sufficient to fill the gaping void smack in the center of Brett’s soul. And who has to suffer for this? We do.
You’re a mean one, Mr. Favre.
